


Dirty Dog's Naked Cleaning Service

by Vermilion_Sunrise



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Break Up, F/M, Flirting, Good girl sansa, Joff is a punk, Man cookies, Naked Cleaning Service, POV Sandor Clegane, POV Sansa Stark, Sandor in an apron, Sex, Shower Sex, bad boy sandor, just for fun, make my eggs, naked cleaning, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24440683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vermilion_Sunrise/pseuds/Vermilion_Sunrise
Summary: SanSan, Modern A/U, Silly Fun:  If you've ever asked yourself what would happen if Sandor came to clean Sansa's house naked, this fic holds the answer. Light hearted, flirty, and naughty its time to have a little bit of fun with these two and put them in a situation we won't soon forget.What kind of a woman calls a naked cleaner? Well Sansa, obviously. :-)Cooked up on Discord, we had some fun working on this.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane & Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 219
Kudos: 350





	1. What Kind of Woman Calls the Naked Cleaners?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thecatthewall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thecatthewall/gifts), [Bwestwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bwestwood/gifts).



> Thecatthewall and Bwest were instrumental in getting this piece together and helping me work on my more playful side. Enjoy! Join us on discord, ask for the link!

#  Chapter 1: What Kind of Woman Calls the Naked Cleaners?

Leaning heavily on her door frame and gripping it with all her might, Sansa did what she could to steady herself. Standing upright felt like torture, putting one foot in front of the other, like scaling the arid desert mountains of Dorne. A sudden lurch from her stomach made her hand move reflexively over her mouth, keeping the tipsy red head from spilling her dinner all over her entryway floor.

“Easy there, big sis,” Arya’s voice was a light in the darkness. Her ever present little sister, a much needed friend on her first journey into a heartbreak induced, drunken stupor. 

Sansa shifted her weight from the door to her sister, pushing the frame away while doing her best not to fall flat on her face.  _ I forget that playing all that soccer, she’s strong as an ox,  _ Sansa noted half-heartedly, always having teased her sister for being athletic when they were young.  _ Gods I was so mean to her as a kid. _

In truth, growing up with Arya had been difficult, trying, even traumatic. Sansa thought back on that time Arya threw gum in her hair, and their mother had to shorten her long flowy locks by a full six inches. At that time Sansa had sworn she’d never forgive Arya for what she’d done, but of course she had. They were sisters. Two against the world. More than anybody else in Sansa’s life, Arya had always been there for her. Certainly before, and especially now during this breakup with Joff, Arya was her rock. She was more than that, she was her life line, and the reason she was currently struggling to stand. 

Tonight’s excuse for spontaneously going out together had been benign enough. Her breakup was still fresh, only a week old, and Sansa had literally barricaded herself in her home. She refused to come out for anything more than grocery shopping and work. At around the seven day mark Arya unilaterally decided Sansa had sulked long enough. Her tiny brunette sister showing up at her door this evening determined to drag her out of the house, and help her “get over that blonde, skinny, cunt”--Arya’s words, not hers--as soon as possible.

Fighting to walk a straight line, even with her sister’s help, Sansa tried to remember what happened that evening. What had started out as dinner, wine, and some uplifting girl talk, had quickly moved on to one night cap. Then a round of drinks, then another, until the liquor felt like water. A social drinker only, Sansa had never really let loose and allowed men she didn’t know to buy her drinks at a bar. It had been thrilling at the time, validating to a girl who had only ever kissed one guy. 

Sansa’s stomach heaved again. The sudden vomitous feeling made her falter, nearly bringing both she and Arya to the ground. If she hadn’t regretted her night out before, she certainly was now. 

The house was a blur, but Sansa was grateful for the fact that Arya was easing her down the hall and toward her bedroom with care.  _ For the love of the Seven, I’m so drunk I can’t stand--and I’m so heartbroken I can’t stop crying. My dignity? Down the drain. _

The glacial pace at which her dignity had been stripped away started many years before this night. If she had to really think back, and over the last week that was basically all she had done, it had begun shortly after she and her highschool sweetheart, Joffrey Baratheon, started dating. Sansa had been so in love with him at the time, that she never seemed to notice when he was late to pick her up, or when his stories were slightly turned around. Like an ostrich with its head in the ground, Sansa had allowed it to happen--or at the very least she had been a passive bystander to Joff’s infidelities.  _ Doesn’t that make me at least partially guilty as well? _

Their whole relationship had come to an abrupt end when she came home early from work last week catching him in “the act” with her good friend Margaery Tyrell. Deep in her heart she’d always known, but Sansa had been so stubborn she needed to see it happening right in front of her stupid face. She found them in this bedroom, on this exact bed where Arya was gingerly helping her sit. Joffry was mounting her like some beast of burden and was giving it to Margaery with such vigor, Sansa stood unnoticed at the door, mouth opened in shock for a good minute before she lost it.

The truth had come out fast after that. It hadn’t been just a little truth either, it had been the whole truth about all the girls he had run around with. From Jeyne Poole in the 11th grade, all the way through college, and now Marjory. At twenty five years old, Sansa had never looked at another man, much less slept with anyone other than Joff. The pain, the anger, and the outrage erupted before she could calm herself with any rational thinking. As if possessed by a demon, Sansa ripped through the house they shared together, or more accurately, the house  _ she _ bought for them, and started throwing everything that was his on the front lawn. 

Joff hadn’t even gotten his pants on before Sansa managed to empty the entryway of his shoes and jackets, the living room of his ugly framed posters and gaming consoles. Her longtime boyfriend had shown his true colors then, screaming at her in the front lawn and airing their dirty laundry for the entire neighborhood to hear. Sansa could not recall being so red faced and embarrassed in her whole life.

She called him a cheat and a liar, he called her boring and unadventurous. When tears started forming in her eyes, it only spurred him on. He had never really loved her, apparently. He only stayed with her because their families were of the same social status and that was hard to come by. Sansa had been devastated, her heart ripped from her chest and left beating on the lawn. If that hadn’t been enough, police sirens coming up the street only added to her sorrows. 

The only silver lining was that the police had found some kind of sympathy for her, staying while Joff got all his things out of her house. It had taken some hours, but it had been so worth it.  _ I really hated all his stuff anyway, it was such a relief to watch it go. And now what? _

Before tonight, Sansa had never understood why a person would drink alcohol in excess to forget. Now, she completely understood, even if the thought of emptying her guts in the toilet made her want to wretch just thinking about it.  _ Why is the room spinning? Gods, will this ever end? _

Arya began taking off Sansa’s shoes and putting some pillows such that she could be upright in the bed. An aspirin and full glass of water later Sansa snuggled up with her sister for a moment, happy she didn’t have to go through this alone. It was only then Sansa realized Arya had that damned gift certificate in her hand. 

_ A naked cleaning service,  _ Sansa rolled her eyes.  _ What kind of woman orders a naked man to clean her house?  _ Her sister meant well, but the last thing she needed in her life was a stranger in the buff, going through her private things. 

“I think you should make the appointment now,” Arya suggested nonchalantly, hoping Sansa would be far gone enough to simply agree to her antics without a fight. 

Sansa’s head flopped over sloppily, resting on her younger sister’s shoulder. “What could I possibly want with a naked cleaner, Arya?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” her sister paused for effect, “so that you can say you’ve seen two whole dicks in your life.” Just the use of the word dick made Sansa blush. That was followed quickly by a pang of guilt and a flashback to her fight on the lawn with Joff.  _ Am I really too prude for my own good? Am I just a vanilla good girl to dust off and make mom and dad proud, then to put back on the shelf again? _ Sansa thought she’d be sick. Again.

“And besides,” Arya continued, “They have some pretty hunky men on that site.” Sansa wouldn’t be swayed, she was so tired of men she’d be happy if another one never crossed her path again. Ever. 

“Do you remember what you always used to tell me about your dream guy? As kids when we used to lay in the fields near Winterfell and look up at the clouds, you used to have all kinds of crazy ideas,” Arya snuggled Sansa close, they interlaced their fingers.

Sansa did remember the day they shared these thoughts, long before she had ever met Joff, long before life had gotten complicated, “You mean like a tall guy?” Sansa began, “Maybe 6ft 4?”

“6ft 4?” Arya asked pretending to be repulsed, “Why stop there? He should be a beast, 6ft 8 at least!”

They giggled as they would have when they were children, “Fine 6 ft 8, and broad. A big muscled frame that he has to turn sideways to enter the door.”

“That’s right, and what else?” Arya encouraged her. 

“Well….” Sansa had quickly forgotten her pain, Arya had a way with that. She was so lucky to have her. “Long dark hair, a short cut beard, and chest hair--lots and lots of chest hair,”

“Screw that baby skinned, peach fuzz growin’ cunt!” Arya laughed. “You want a bad boy, sister. You always wanted the complete opposite of the guy you ended up with. So don’t be sad he’s gone, be glad. Now, you can at least hire one out for the day.” She waved the ticket in front of Sansa’s nose.

Before she could even think about what to say in response to her younger sister, like lightning, grabbed Sansa’s phone from the bedside table, and began to dial. Sansa didn’t dare try to wrestle the phone from her sister’s hand, knowing she was more likely to fall on the floor than take her phone back. Glancing over at the clock and squinting to make the time, Sansa found some relief in the fact that it was after midnight, and probably nobody would pickup at the cleaning service this time of night. 

So it was with bated breath, that both sisters stared down into the phone. Its speaker set to loud so both could hear the conversation, the number for this ridiculous cleaning service flashing on it’s screen. Just as they thought it wouldn’t go through, the operator picked up. “Dirty Dog’s Naked Cleaning Service. We get down and dirty, so you don’t have to. How may I assist you this evening?”

Arya looked over at Sansa motioning her to speak. “Uh hi. My name is Sansa Stark and I, uh…”

Arya was holding up the gift certificate, mouthing the words, and pointing to it in an over exaggerated manor.  _ Gods, I’m that drunk aren't I? _

“I uh have a gift certificate for some….um services.” she was so relieved to get that sentence out Sansa hadn’t realized that she would probably have to have a full conversation with the woman on the other end. Sweat started forming on her brow. 

“I can help you with that, Miss Stark. What’s the code?”

Arya chimed in quickly, and made her voice sound surprisingly like Sansa’s own,  _ This isn’t the first time she’s done this before,  _ Sansa realized narrowing her eyes as her younger sister spoke for her.

“RZY6758BB0,” Arya read from the paper.

“Well well,” the Operator answered after a moment. “Seems like somebody got you the full um,  _ package _ , as we like to call it.” Arya giggled at that, Sansa only blushed at the very thought of the double meaning of the word. 

“Four hours of cleaning services, from clothed to complete nudity, your decision, and any other odd jobs you want around the house. Have you decided which cleaner you want to book from our website?” The woman on the other end was surprisingly professional, putting Sansa somewhat at ease that this wasn’t some kind of sex for pay business, but an actual legitimate business.

Realizing she hadn’t even looked at the website Sansa felt panicked, “Um, no I just called to see what there was. Perhaps I should try again…” but Arya cut her off with a look.

“That’s no problem, ma’am. What kind of man are you interested in?” The operator didn’t seem the least bit concerned, as if many women called this service without a clue in the world what they wanted, and least of all what they were in store for.

“Tall, dark, muscular,” Arya began, having confirmed Sansa’s desires already beforehand.  _ That little con artist,  _ Sansa thought affectionately. 

“With long hair, maybe a biker type?” Arya was fishing for some men she had obviously seen on the site before.

“Hummm, yes I have a few that would fit that description,” the Operator said thoughtfully, Sansa almost melted in a puddle of embarrassment. “And what about his dick? You want him to be normal, or packing? Hairy or smooth?”

Sansa nearly slid off the bed, her mouth agape, her cheeks flushed. The very thought of seeing a stranger’s manhood, scandalous.

“Give me the biggest cock you’ve got,” Arya said triumphantly into the microphone. Sansa’s mouth gaped open, she tried to smack her sister on the shoulder, but failed miserably. 

“I like your enthusiasm,” the Operator said, “the earliest I could get you an appointment would be in two weeks.”

Sansa felt saved, relieved. She could always just cancel the appointment when her sister left and Arya would never be the wiser. But then, she saw that mischievous grin spread across her sister’s face and knew Arya Stark had a plan.

“No, I’d like to have him as soon as possible. How about tomorrow at 1pm?”

The Operator was flustered, “We’ll I don’t think we can….” Sansa could hear some indistinguishable murmuring in the background, as if the operator was having a quick chat with somebody else. “Please hold a moment.”

“What are you doing?” Sansa mouthed to her younger sister. Arya merely wiggled her eyebrows in satisfaction, as if she knew something Sansa didn’t. Whatever her sister was up to, Sansa didn’t like it.

At some point the whispering on the other end stopped, “Miss Stark, we do have the perfect man for you. He fits your description completely AND he would be available tomorrow. Only...he’s on probation.”

“You mean like from jail?” Sansa blurted out, not wanting some burly naked criminal in her home.

“Oh no, no, nothing like that,” the woman on the other end laughed. “All of our cleaners are well groomed and have no criminal records. I just mean to say, he’s on probation with us. He is on the final of his five strikes.”

“What do you mean?” Sansa asked, both she and her sister leaning in closer to her phone. 

“Well…” the operator didn’t seem to know how to broach the subject properly, “we’ve had some complaints.” Then the operator quickly added, “not about his body. Oh heavens no, he might have the best in the business. It’s just…” 

It seemed the operator was having issues formulating it in the proper way. “He’s kind of a bad boy. Some women think they want a bad boy, but end up not being able to handle him.” There was a pause, giving Sansa the idea that the lady on the other end was kind of rooting for this guy. 

The Operator continued, “So they complain about his attitude, or that he doesn’t fulfill their  _ naked cleaning fantasy _ . This would be his last chance, one more strike and we’ll have to fire him.” There was a sigh on the other end of the line that made Sansa’s heart feel for this guy.  _ If you can’t make it as a naked cleaner, what could you make it as? _

“We’ll take him,” Arya blurted out, before Sansa could say anything. A huge grin on her sister’s face, Sansa shook her head. 

“Perfect, Miss Stark. Then we’ll send Mr. Hound to your house at 1pm tomorrow. Enjoy your full service,  _ deep  _ clean.”

Sansa couldn’t believe this was happening. She could not believe her sister had just gotten her drunk and taken advantage of her reduced state to get her caught up in one of the most unladylike things she could imagine. But then again, she couldn’t believe a lot of the things that had happened to her over the past week.  _ Maybe it would be good to try something different for a change. _

And with that, Sansa promptly passed out in her bed.


	2. Actually I Do Want Your Man Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa must reconcile her memory of the night before, while Sandor starts to understand his little bird has talons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love it when these two meet for the first time, it's always exciting. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> CTW and Bwestwood have been my muses! THANKS!

#  Chapter 2: Actually I Do Want Your Man Cookies

A narrow strip of light hit Sansa’s face through her drawn blinds. It stung in a way she never knew possible, like she was a creature of the night repulsed by the very thought of the sun. As it was, her senses slowly returning to her, it seemed her whole body was complaining. Her head was pounding, her calves were stiff, her shoulders throbbed because she’d fallen asleep on them in a weird position. 

_ If this is what a hangover is, Gods it’s awful! _

At some point in the night she realized she was still in her clothes, and boiling hot under her covers. In an unusual, still intoxicated, choice Sansa had wobbled out of bed and hastily shed all of her clothes in favor of sleeping in the buff. It was something she never did, but, given the circumstances, she had not cared. Her soft pillows had been inviting, the aspirin had kicked so her head was no longer pounding, and she had fallen asleep quickly.

Knowing that she would need to get up at some point today, Sansa tried to lift her head and immediately thought better of it. It weighed a ton, it hurt to even bring it an inch from the pillow. “At least it’s Saturday,” she grumbled, pulling the covers over her head and thanking the gods for small favors. 

Always the good girl, Sansa had never stepped a toe out of place. As a kid she had always come home and did her homework immediately, always turned in her assignments early. In life. She had played it safe. With a degree in communications from the most prestigious university in Westeros, she immediately took up a junior position at one of the foremost PR companies on the island. 

Sansa had worked hard, played by the rules, and had done well for herself. Until last week. The pain of the breakup was like an open wound. Everything reminded her of Joff, both the good times and the bad. Going out with Arya last night had been her sister’s attempt to loosen her up, have her explore other possibilities.  _ But I’m not ready, and I don’t think I ever will be again. _

Sansa breathed into her pillow hoping to find some resolve to face the morning.  _ The minute I can sit up, Arya’s getting a call and a piece of my mind,  _ Sansa decided. 

_ Ding, dong! _

The doorbell rang and Sansa was certain she was mistaken. She had no plans this weekend, and even if she had, she would have cancelled due to “unforeseen difficulties.” It had to be in her mind, the booze still running through her system. Paining her in ways she didn’t think possible.

_ Ding, dong! _

_ Again, what in the name of the Seven is going on? _ When the gentle ring of the bell became a prolonged, annoying buzz, Sansa realized it wasn’t a figment of her imagination at all. 

There was no time to care about her appearance, which was normally perfect. Artfully avoiding the mirror of her dresser, Sansa poked around her mess of a bedroom. The masquera still on her lashes made them stick together. The frizz of hair in her face pointed to the fact that sleeping with hairspray made her hair stick up in all the ways she didn’t want.  _ Ohhh, just throw something on Sansa.  _

_ Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Ding! Ding! Ding! _

Her pulse quickening, Sansa searched around the unusually messy floor of her bedroom, zeroing in on the first thing that was both decent enough and easy to put on.  _ A pair of bright yellow panties and Wolf’s Hockey Jersey, not my greatest look. _

She sighed,  _ You’re only opening the door for a second, then coffee.  _

The plan was simple, open the door a crack, see who was bothering her, and tell them to leave. Mobilizing her body, on the other hand, was proving to be difficult. Unsteady on her feet for the first couple of steps, her motivation to stop the incessant and obnoxious sound of the doorbell won out. 

Ding, dong! Ding, dong!

Undoing the latch and opening her front door, she peaked out, and could not have been prepared for what she saw.  _ Oh my goodness, what is this?  _

The man staring back at her wore an exasperated look on his rugged face. Long dark hair pulled back into a man bun type thing, a well trimmed beard with a scar running from over his left eye and stopping at his jaw on the same side. He was as big as the door, possibly bigger, with a motorcycle helmet in one hand and a pail full of cleaning supplies, complete with feather duster, in the other.

Confused, Sansa said the first thing that came into her foggy mind. “I don’t want any...of your...um… “ 

_ Oh gods, is this what I sound like?  _ Sansa’s voice was a froggy croak, not her usual sing-song crystal tone. 

_ Uh, and my breath still smells like Jack Daniels.  _ The very thought of the booze they had been enjoying last night was enough to send her running back to her bathroom for another heave, but luckily she was able to control it. For now.

Realizing she was having an internal monologue while standing in front of the door, in her underwear, jersey slung low over one shoulder and high on the other, Sansa knew she needed to say something. She did her best to use the back of the door handle as support, attempting to overlook the fact that her mysterious male caller was looking at her as if she’d sprouted two heads.

_ You need to end this fast, say something! _

Clearing her throat to no avail she spoke. ”....I don’t want any of your big man cookies,” she peeped and slammed the door before he could get a word in.

Leaning her back on the inside of the door and sliding partway down it, Sansa felt trapped in a cheesy romance movie.  _ What in the world is happening? Did we do something last night? Did Arya get me into this? Oh gods I hope he leaves.  _

Before she could even get two breaths in, there came a pounding on the door, making her chest rumble due to the force. Shaking her head, trying to literally wake up from this wild nightmare, Sansa begged whichever gods would listen to make this hunky tall drink of a man leave--before she would have to do something drastic. 

When he knocked on the door again, this time she was sure it was with the side of his fist, the door bouncing on its hinges as she squatted in her entryway.  _ Ohhh, why me? Why is it always me? _

Swallowing hard and steadying herself to give him some kind of lecture on how to properly treat a lady, Sansa opened the door again. She wasn’t ready for what he did next. The biker with an unusual set of cleaning supplies at his side, slapped the palm of his now empty right hand flat on the door to block her from shutting it in his face. Sansa should have been afraid. A guy like that in her neighborhood, barging into her home, and eyeing her up. His motivations as unclear as his origins, Sansa could hear that little voice in her head telling her to call the police. 

Yet, something in her gut told her he was not there to hurt her. Maybe it was the cleaning supplies displayed so prominently in his bucket, maybe it was because he smelled fresh with a hint of spice that she loved so much. Staring into his stone grey eyes nipped her resolve in the bud. 

She quickly went to plan B, “Fine. Give me all your cookies and, just, uhhhh, get off my porch.” 

Her brain was still coming back online, and as such she didn’t realize how ridiculous this scene must be until she read his face. It was a mask of amusement and confusion, tempered with a self confidence that made her core melt. 

They stood there a moment, him in his riding leathers and cleaning pail, her in her jersey -- the hem of which was riding up on one side to the point that she was sure her underwear was showing. Sansa blushed, because it was improper to parade herself in such a manner to a stranger, and because something inside her found it thrilling to watch his eye look her over.

Once the situation had calmed down a bit, he spoke. His voice was deep and gravely. It was the kind of voice you want to read you a bedtime story, or wish you good night from the dark. “This is 125 North Winterfell Lane, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” she answered timidly trying to understand how he would have this address in his mind. 

“And you’re Sansa Stark?” her name rolled off his tongue in a way she didn’t believe was possible. Like a radio announcer talking about jazz for lovers on the airwaves. It made her melt into a little puddle, and wrack her brain trying to figure out how he knew her address and her name. 

_ Did I give my number to somebody? Did I solicit sex?  _ The very thought horrified her. 

“That’s me,” she confirmed, craning her neck so as to maintain eye contact. He had to be 6ft 8 at least, filled her doorway as if it had been made two sizes too small for him.

“Thought you’d be older,” the tall biker said, putting his pail down next to his helmet on the porch. Sansa unconsciously took a step back into her house, part of her wanting to create distance between them, and another part wanting to take him in fully. 

His outfit was simple, a tight white T-shirt stretched to its limit across his broad chest. All the muscles he had cultivated over many years were just itching to burst out from thick fabric. Over that a black leather jacket, riding leathers. It had probably been made specially for him, she couldn’t imagine a man his size finding leathers like that. It fit his torso like a glove. Her eye then traveled to his lower half. The man’s jeans were taut across his well defined thighs. Sansa didn’t even think they made jeans that tight and found herself squinting to see if they were painted on. The contours of the muscles in his legs, the noticeably enticing bulge at the front, almost brought her tongue to her lips--she breathed a sigh of relief at being able to control herself. 

As if reading her mind, or her deepest, naughtiest desires, the stranger clad in leather took a few steps closer. He cleared his throat more out of nervousness than anything else, the pulse there quickening. 

The words that came out next were memorized and about as devoid of enthusiasm for life as she currently was, “Hello, I’m Mr. Hound from Dirty Dog’s Naked Cleaning Service. We get down and dirty, so you don’t have to.” 

Sansa put her hand over her mouth as the memories came partially flooding back. Arya, the bar, the gift certificate, the call.  _ We did make a call, we did talk about men...but we actually ordered one for today! Oh Arya! _

She was furious of course, but it was tempered with a curiosity she couldn’t explain. She remembered her sister teasing her about only ever seeing one, um, penis her whole life. She thought about how true it was and how shitty her love life had turned out.  _ Maybe it’s not such a bad idea after all _ ? 

Ever the hostess, Sansa backed up to allow the oversized, muscular Mr. Hound to enter her abode. However, before he could start with the next pre-rehearsed line of whatever script they gave those guys to read, she scurried back into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Panic had suddenly taken over the normally put together young red-head. The fact that she looked and smelled like she’d slept in a bar notwithstanding, she didn’t even know what to do with him--much less understood how this whole ridiculous thing worked. Rubbing her eyes, Sansa searched her messy room feverishly for her phone. Under her blouse and jeans from the night before she found the damned thing with a text from her sister, “Have fun this afternoon. Pics or it didn’t happen :-)” 

_ Oh pics huh?  _ Sansa rolled her eyes, not about to dignify her sister’s nosy text with a response. 

Sansa took a moment to breathe, if she should faint and have this man take her to the hospital, she’d never live down the embarrassment of explaining that to anybody, muchless to the ER staff. “Where is that bloody gift certificate?”

Tearing through her room like a crazy woman she fished it out from under her sheets. It was crumpled and smelled like beer. Pulling it taut she glanced over the writing here. “Four hours!” she exclaimed louder than she wanted to, “He’s going to clean my house for four hours?” 

_ Oh Sansa, what have you gotten yourself into? _

* * *

Since taking this job for extra money a few months back, Sandor had encountered a lot of strange people. Some couldn’t stop ogling him, others couldn’t stop giggling--some even offered he jump in bed with them. But none of them had ever turned tail and hidden themselves in their bedrooms quite like Sansa Stark. 

_ Shit, half the birds who order guys like me never even look at the website,  _ Sandor shook his head wondering if his rough appearance had frightened her off. Scanning the street for onlookers and finding none, Sandor shut the door to the quaint one story home in an upscale part of town. 

The color of the exterior, the lace curtains over the windows and the pristine garden, had led Sandor to believe she’d be an older woman looking for a thrill. Instead he’d found himself face-to-face with a hungover twenty-something who wasn’t even sure what day it was. She’d blushed so hard Sandor wondered if somebody had ordered him as a joke.

_ I’m not her kind of guy by far,  _ he mused looking around the place. Girls like her, with diplomas on the walls, didn’t like guys like him--with a scar on his face from a bar fight years back. He scared women like her, made them piss their little panties in fear. So he exhaled a moment to see what was going to happen.

_ Na, fuck it, I need a damn coffee,  _ droping his cleaning supplies in the living room, Sandor Clegane made his way to her kitchen. It was overly homey, as if somebody was trying way too hard, with too many flower print things and the like. It was clean though,  _ Not much work to do is fine by me. _

Somebody had been looking out for her, a note read, “Just press the on button. Kisses, Arya.”

_ She puffed her feathers and made off like a little bird,  _ Sandor laughed, pressing the button as instructed. Her filter coffee machine leapt to life, the familiar sounds of the boiler filling the air.

Leaning on the counter, and wondering if she’d ever show herself again, Sandor pondered his next moves.  _ I fucking need this job, it’s my last chance to scrape up some money for Stranger.  _

His beloved horse. Sandor was a rancher, owned quite a few acres outside of King's Landing and enjoyed his peace and quiet. But when his prize steed, and best buddy, began to have issues running, Sandor was faced with paying the vet for an expensive surgery, or having him put down. 

_ Leave it up to the money grubbing son of a bitch Bronn to get me into this ridiculous job,  _ Sandor shook his head. 

Sandor had turned to his friend because Bronn knew how to make money in the city fast. He had just never thought it would be one step before whoring yourself out. Always the salesman, Bronn pitched it to Sandor as a bunch of bachelorette parties, with women draping themselves over you, and that the “off duty parts” were all up to his discretion. That sounded fine, Sandor wasn’t opposed to some anonymous sex if the mood was right. He certainly didn’t meet a lof of women alone on his ranch.

What he found out though, was that Bronn had much lower standards than he did. Even then, most were not throwing themselves at the cleaners. Naked cleaners were more a novelty, something to stare at creepily as they went about their work in the house. There was rarely any conversation, just a beep from that ridiculous app which signaled him to take off an article of clothing for his patron’s “cleaning fantasy.” 

Needless to say, Sandor had snapped a few times, his quick temper getting the better of him. A few liked his spark, even if he wasn’t so interested in them. Most women found it off putting, even scary due to his size.  _ And I’m almost fucking certain this one is gonna make me loose this gig, and I need the fuckin’ money. _

Sandor poured himself a cup of coffee and crossed his arms in front of his chest.  _ Either she’s called the police, or she’ll come out eventually.  _ He looked at his watch, happy to see thirty minutes had already gone by. 

The sound of footsteps rounding the corner into the kitchen made him look up mid sip, and he nearly spit his coffee out.  _ She’s way prettier without makeup,  _ he noticed seeing she’d taken a shower in the meantime. 

Her hair was still damp and curling in the humidity. She wore a blue flowered sundress, short, with a cardigan zipped up far higher than it needed to be. The girl looked more alert than before, but hangovers were hard to shake, Sandor knew from experience. Pouring some coffee into a waiting mug for her, Sandor extended it in her direction. Somewhat surprised by his gesture, the grumpy red-head mumbled a “Thank you” before sitting at the kitchen table.

It was silent a long while, and Sandor wasn’t sure if he should ruin the mood by talking. He hated talking but he had to get his spiel over with, so they could start this whole naked cleaning farce and move on with their lives. His eye caught the crumpled paper in her hand, which meant she probably didn’t know what she was getting into at all. 

“You know how this works, don’t you, Little Bird?” he was being a bit of a cunt, he knew it. But he couldn’t help himself. 

Her eyes flickered to him a moment when he used the nickname, then went back to her coffee, “Please, enlighten me, Mr. Hound.”

Her sass made him grin, “No touching, no pictures, no video. That app on your phone,” he saw her take her phone out of her pocket and look surprised it was even there, “anytime you want me to remove some clothing you hit that button.”

Sandor stopped a moment, then threw caution to the wind, “Not that I think you have the guts to make me go all the way balls out, but with what you bought,” he cocked his head to the side to check her out a bit, “you can look as much and as  _ long _ as you want.”

Her cheeks reddened at the reference to long, making Sandor snort.  _ If she’s blushing at the mere suggestion of a cock, she’ll never go all the way. All the better, popping a boner is fucking unprofessional. _

He could see a spark in her beautiful blue eyes, as if she wanted to say something but thought better of it.  _ Just like I thought, passive, prim, she’s gonna fuckin’ hate me. _

A long silence passed as she studied the gift certificate closely. Not a patient man by far, Sandor cut through the silence, “What do you want me to do first?” he said it more as a challenge than a request. He knew he was intimidating in his leather jacket, black boots and tight blue jeans. But he had to admit, he was completely curious about what she would say next. 

“Alright well, Mr. Hound, why don’t you start makin’ my eggs. Two over easy, don’t break the yolks, and two pieces of toast, plain. ” She had a slight grin on her face as she said it. 

Sandor opened his mouth to protest cooking for her, when she cut him off, “It says right here on this piece of paper you not only clean, but do  _ odd jobs _ . I’d say a man like you, cookin’  _ my _ breakfast is certainly odd and very much a job.” 

With that, the little bitch hit the button on the app four times, Sandor could feel the vibration of his phone in his pocket waiting for his confirmation of having complied. He took it out, placing it on the counter.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” Sandor didn’t know what to think, certainly he hadn’t expected the meek girl from earlier to pull a full power move on him. 

“Time is ticking, Mr. Hound. Oh and, put that apron on,” her eyes moved to the corner of the kitchen where a pink, flowery, apron hung on the wall. Never one to hide his displeasure, Sandor had no doubt his face was telling her every expletive he was thinking. 

She merely grinned like a Cheshire cat, “It plays into my...,” she brought the paper up closer to her face to read it off exactly, “...my  _ sexy man cleaning fantasy _ .”

Head cocked to the side, Sandor couldn’t believe what was coming out of her mouth. He gritted his teeth and did his best not to just simply give her a piece of his mind.  _ You need this job Clegane, and she’s not hard on the eyes.  _ The battle of wills was gonna get him though, gonna light his fuse faster than anything.

In no attempt to be sexy whatsoever, Sandor removed his leather jacket, both of his boots, and one sock, placing them on one of the three chairs at her kitchen table. Then, looking over at the frilly, homemaker, apron, he sighed and put it on. Tying it neatly around his waist.  _ I look like a fucking tosser! _

Remembering what Bronn had taught him, Sandor made an effort to bend over fully whilst searching her cupboards for the proper pans. Apparently women liked a man’s ass, though Sandor had to admit he did not know the inner workings of the female mind well enough to say.

Her fridge had a couple of weird odds and ends. Milk, salad, eggs, bacon and some beers that he couldn’t imagine a girl like her drinking. There was half an avocado and some onions in the vegetable drawer, “Who puts bloody onions in the vegetable drawer?” he muttered loud enough for her to hear. “Everybody knows it’s a root. It should be kept on the bloody counter.”

His sarcasm was met with the vibration of his phone now on the counter. It was indicating that he must, yet again, remove something. Turning his head and giving her the evil eye, Sandor removed his final sock and tossed it to the chair, the sock narrowly missing her head on purpose. 

The little wench actually smirked at him through her coffee mug, and went to reading the Saturday fuckin’ paper. Breathing out, Sandor endeavored to stay calm.

Years of living by himself had forced Sandor to be his own private chef. While he would have never considered himself great at cooking, he was a master at curing hangovers.  _ Two over easy eggs ain’t good for shit,  _ he grinned throwing some bacon in the hot pan and watching it sizzle. 

She hadn’t ordered it, it wasn’t healthy at all, he knew it would piss her off. He didn’t turn around, but could imagine her little lips forming an ‘O’ as she sat at her kitchen table in outrage, the smell of bacon fat wafting in her direction. 

Miss Stark said nothing though, as Sandor went to make her toast, spreading the last half of the avocado on it, mixing that with some mayo, then topping it with the greasy bacon and eggs.  _ No tabasco? Just as I suspected, boring and unadventurous. _

Standing barefoot in that ridiculous apron, Sandor triumphantly set the improved breakfast order in front of her.

“I didn’t order that,” she said, not even looking at it. 

“No, you didn’t.” He answered flatly.

“I know you’re on probation at the agency, the operator told me all about it. One more bad review and your...”

Sandor cut her off, “And your hungover as fuck little missy. Two over easy eggs and some dry ass toast ain’t gonna do shit for how you feel.This right here, that’ll clear it up.” 

Their eyes met,  _ She’s fuckin’ pretty when she’s mad,  _ he thought. 

“Fine,” she pulled the plate in front of her. 

Sandor needed to do something about her not so thinly veiled threat. He only really knew how to bark at folks, persuasion was not his strong suit. But he swallowed, and tried his best, “I’m well worth the wait, Little Bird. Complain about me too soon to those bloody cunts at the agency, and I’ll have to leave.”

She seemed to consider his words a moment before agreeing, “I guess you’re right. But refuse one task I have for you today…” as if anticipating his words she continued, “...within the rules of your job, and I’ll just have to leave whatever is left to my imagination. Usually that’s better than real life anyway.”

At that he smirked,  _ the Little Bird has talons.  _ Then narrowed his eyes once more as an additional vibration made itself known on his cell phone.


	3. Mr. Hound Gets Dirty So You Don’t Have To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor and Sansa get down to the business of properly cleaning her house, and delving deeper into their budding relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugs and kisses to CTW who has been my muse and supporter!

#  Chapter 3: Mr. Hound Gets Dirty So You Don’t Have To

_ Get into the kitchen and make my eggs! What in the world am I doing?  _ Sansa rarely ordered anybody around, but even then it was usually for something nice--like getting ice cream or picking up the milk. Never, in her whole entire life, had she told a man like Mr. Hound to make her breakfast. If the very idea of teasing him hadn’t been enough, the fact that he’d removed that leather jacket so she could get a full view of his muscled back, sent her imagination into overdrive. 

Her most recent press of the app button had gotten her a knowing smirk from her muscled companion, and the heavy clang made by the drop of a belt on her tile floor.  _ Not what I was hoping for,  _ her eyes locked with his. They were embroiled in a sexual strategy game, neither of them wanting to give too much to the other--but at the same time wanting to give it all.

_ Oh we’ll see, Mr. Hound. We’ll see.  _ Sansa paused,  _ Where is this coming from? _

She put her hands on the table and tried to rationalize the situation.  _ Did Arya slip me some kind of drug in those drinks? Does having a hangover fundamentally alter your brain? What else could the explanation be for going to sleep and being reborn a completely different person? _ Hiding her grin while Mr. Hound began tidying up her kitchen, Sansa shifted her attention to the sandwich in front of her. 

It smelled like heaven and looked like a million calories.

_ Here’s to the new me,  _ she grabbed the sandwich with both hands and bit down into it. A burst of flavors and textures entered her mouth that were more than pleasing. The creaminess of the avocado, the well salted egg, the crisp greasy bacon coming together to make her taste buds sing. It made her think of all those times Joff had bullied her into eating salads and avoiding carbs so she could, “Still fit into her prom dress.” 

_ What a jerk! How could I continue in life missing out on things like this? _ Sansa’s eyes quickly shifted to Mr. Hound,  _ Or guys like him? _

The rough appearance of her naked cleaner didn't bother Sansa in the least, especially after she’d showered and gotten her wits about her. If anything, he was right out of some romantic play like Guys and Dolls or West Side Story. The bad boy. The kind of guy you didn’t take to meet your parents. Sansa nearly giggled out loud and the absurdity of her thoughts, her mind always lingering too long on stories, plays and the like. 

_ He looks like that, AND he can cook. He must have a girlfriend,  _ the very thought gave her pause. She certainly wouldn’t have felt comfortable if Joff had been doing this as a job, she would have found it hard to ask him how his day was over dinner--even though she didn’t consider herself a jealous person. Then again, Joff had been an accountant at a consulting firm and had done far worse than just take his clothes off for another woman. 

Sansa eyed Mr. Hound from her perch at the kitchen table, using the Saturday paper as a cover. Part of her felt it a fun game to see if he had any clues on him that would point to his relationship status. Sansa smirked under the cover of the funny pages. 

He wore no ring on his left hand, nor did he have a tan line there,  _ Oh Sansa stop this! You, young lady, are incorrigible. You don’t know this man at all, and nothing good could ever come of getting to know him better.  _

She took another bite of the sandwich, feeling the creamy yoke of the egg roll down her chin. Mr. Hound had sized her up as weak. Sansa knew she looked like a girl that would let him, or anybody else for that matter, push her around. As the events of last night slowly came back to her, Sansa realized how right Arya had been.  _ Guys want me because I’m pretty, they take advantage of me because I let them.  _

As children, Sansa had always teased her sister about being plain. Now she understood that there were advantages to that, developments in self confidence that Sansa had simply skipped over. Her desire to please people had backfired to the point that she pleased no one, least of all herself.  _ People see my easy smile, my perfect hair, my sense of style, and immediately judge me. They see me as a pretty girl with nothing in her head. Easy prey. Well, not anymore.  _

From today, Sansa pledged she would focus on doing things that made her happy. Her house, her job, her relationship had all been nice, but they had been safe. She knew she had to take some risks, even if they were scary. She wanted to seek out satisfying things, even if they didn’t fall into what was expected of her.

_ Well, that bum is satisfying _ , she smiled openly, knowing he would not see her. Mr. Hound had picked up the floor mat near the sink and had draped it there so he could clean underneath. His behind was full and rounded, moving under his jeans like two cats fighting in a bag. 

_ And how I would love to see that fight without the bag,  _ she giggled out loud, nearly clapping her hand over her mouth. 

He turned, throwing her a death glare, “Something funny, Little Bird?

Sansa put on her best straight face, which came out surprisingly good for the first time, “The comics always make me laugh. How about you?” She pointed to the comics section and showed him, fighting to keep her face neutral. She had no clue what was written there, and hoped he wouldn't press her on the issue. 

Not even inclined to answer her small talk, the big man in her kitchen went back to scrubbing the sink. The side of her mouth turned up while she watched the ruffles of her pink apron flutter while he worked. Mr. Hound’s triceps flexed with every movement of his hand, the muscles on his back looked like they were ready to lift weights even as he did the most menial tasks,  _ Gods I didn’t think a man cleaning could be so nice. Then again, when did Joff lift a finger around this house to do anything? _

Hitting the button on the app, Sansa could see him stiffen as the alert went through. She couldn’t tell if he particularly liked his job, though he seemed to be quite secure with his body. That gave Sansa the impression that he was more at odds with the fact that somebody else held his proverbial leash, ordering him to remove his clothing or do things as they wanted. It was this exercise of control over him that grated against his independent, rebel nature. 

Hastily untying the apron from his waist in response to her request, Sansa thought she’d test her hypothesis. “No keep that on please,” she said, “I’d prefer you take off something else first.”

The apron looked comical on him, just from the fact that he was so big and it was so small. Of course the color and the design added to her amusement. He had almost certainly avoided wearing that color all his life, and probably didn’t own an apron. But it was cute, and he seemed to take it in good humor, only making him more surly than normal.  _ It’ll be off soon enough. _

Unable to hide his annoyance at her request, she could hear him grumble something inaudible. Yet he did as he was told, turning to her, then pulling the hem of his T-Shirt over his head. Mr. Hound wore a white tank top underneath,  _ Probably to increase the anticipation of his clients, and by the gods it does! _

Sansa fought the soft moan eager to escape her lips. Mr. Hound’s chest was covered in well groomed dark hair. It was fully covered as well. No stripe down breast bone no patchiness from what she could see through the thin white tank top. The dark hair carpeted his torso, broad across his chest, then trailing down into his jeans. Sansa’s eyes went from his crotch back to his shoulders. 

_ He should have been a model, he’s so defined even through his clothes. Oh gods! _ Sansa squeezed her thighs together in a vain attempt to sooth her aching center. The irony of the moment wasn’t lost on her as she wished he pay more attention to the flush on her cheeks than the squeezing of her legs.

“You sure you want me to put this back on?” His tone was both challenging and teasing, as if he enjoyed toying with his little bird on a string.  _ Did I just call myself his lIttle bird?  _

“I...I…” she stammered, her face now blushing with embarrassment at her lack of words, “I think you missed a spot.” Sansa pointed to some random place on the kitchen counter, just behind where he stood-- apron in one hand, a sponge in the other.

He snorted, lifted an eyebrow and let the apron drop on the floor in defiance. His cheekiness not only made her grin, it made her glow for the first time in years. 

Sansa literally wanted to touch every muscle on his body. She wanted to run her fingers along them, squeeze them, feel what it was like having his rock hard physique pressed tightly against her. Never in her whole life had she thought such desire from a woman was possible. She’d read about men being unable to control their sexual urges, knew that it was almost expected that they couldn’t, but never had she felt so, dare she say it, horny before. 

The very thought made her blush, not to mention that he was crossing the kitchen to where she sat. “Little Bird ate the whole thing, eh? What did I tell you?” Mr. Hound smelled like spices, towering over her in his massive frame. 

She wanted to lick him, jump out of her chair and just lick him from head to toe. “It was quite good, I must admit,” she squeaked, trying to make sure her thoughts and her words didn’t mix.

“Quite good?” He pushed back, “That’s not what you say when you’re in bed with a guy I hope. Quite good means bad, but you just don’t wanna tell me.” HIs eyebrow was raised, his hip cocked to the side. 

“That sandwich,” he picked up her empty plate, “is fuckin’ good. Go on, say it.”

Sansa was affronted, never had she ever used that word.  _ Nor will I start.  _

Her mind raced for another way to tell him she liked it, something that didn’t put dirty words in her mouth. “It was very pleasing,” she offered, hoping he’d accept that and move away from her before her ovaries exploded. 

Instead he barked a cruel laugh. “Very pleasing,“ he repeated sarcastically, a suggestive grin on his rugged face. Mr. Hound held her eyes for a moment, searching them, then went to the sink to wash her dish. Relief washed over her. 

“Which room next, Little Bird, who lost her voice?” He was egging her on, figuring out which buttons to push.

Instead, Sansa made sure she hit the button on the cleaning app, for good measure. “The living room,” she grinned.

As he began to remove his tank top, Sansa realized she wasn’t prepared for him at all. The only thing that would have made the moment better was if he were in the rain, soaking wet with drops of water rolling off his body. 

_ His abs are incredible,  _ they were the first things Sansa noticed. Joff had told her a six pack was genetically impossible for most, unless they got plastic surgery.  _ Well honey, you were wrong about so many things.  _

Her first instinct was to turn her head away, both hiding her blushing and preventing her from any more dirty thoughts. Mr. Hound, however, had other plans. “Girl, you better keep your eyes on this. I’m not getting naked for my own kicks,” he was calling out her prudeness, pressuring her to gather up the courage to look at him.

Sansa bit her bottom lip and turned her head. She exhaled audibly, unable to fight the urges welling up inside her. Every muscle in his torso rippled and moved in order to help him remove that tank top from his body. When he tensed every bulge in his arms and chest stood at attention, when he moved they wall worked together under his skin to achieve their goal. 

_ I wanna crawl on my hands and knees across the floor and climb up that big tree of a man,  _ Sansa fought to stop her thoughts from going further. This was his job after all. This was what he was supposed to do, and he did it well. Trying to calm herself, Sansa had always thought her imagination was better than anything in real life, but she was slowly beginning to realize that Mr. Hound was redefining the perfect man in her head. It was alarming.

_ Am I exploiting him if I keep making him undress like that?  _ She suddenly wondered, picking her jaw slowly off the floor.

Mr. Hound gave a satisfied grunt, made sure she got a good long look at his beautiful body, before going to her wash cupboard to get the vacuum cleaner.  _ At least we can’t talk while he’s doing that.  _

Sansa was somewhat relieved, she needed a bit of a reprieve from their banter--it was far more cutting and sexually charged that she could have imagined. Also, no man should have that much control of her sexual brain. It was dangerous--if not delightfully so.

Sitting herself down on the couch, Sansa grabbed a book and made sure she wasn’t holding it upside down. She needed cover, and pretending to read while Mr. Hound moved about her living room was the perfect shield. At least that was what she hoped. Sansa tried to look comfortable, and not the least bit turned on. She leaned back on the couch, propping her feet on the coffee table. 

Did she want to show a little leg to Mr. Hound? Did she want to do her best to beat him at his own game?  _ Of course I do,  _ she giggled to herself. She was in uncharted territory, flirting with a stranger who was there to strip at her whim. 

_ Is that even against some kind of naked cleaning regulation?  _ She hadn't read the fine print on the gift certificate to understand the rules on flirting. Shrugging, she hoped there was no boundary being overstepped--even then, it felt good to break the rules.

Watching him vacume wasn’t any less exciting than watching him take his clothes off. Sansa’s eyes often lifted from her book, the pages of which she hadn’t turned for at least five minutes, to drift over him again. He had a good posture, with rough hands and tanned skin. She wondered if he was a construction worker, or a forester. Certainly he didn’t sit in the office all day. 

Every now and then she saw him glance her way, his beautifully colored grey eyes challenging her to say something, even to meet his gaze. Instead she would quickly glance away, looking down so as not to give the impression she ogling him to the extent she was.

_ He’s plotting out his next move,  _ Sansa could read his cheeky expression from across the living room. There was a thrill to playing this sexual game of chess with him. She’d never thought having a naked cleaner could be so fun, and so riveting. Then it made her wonder if he was like this with all his clients.

_ He’s here for the money, Sansa,  _ she reminded herself.  _ He’s probably just trying to get a good tip.  _

The very thought of  _ his tip _ , had her suck in breath quickly. She needed to refocus on something less titillating, but found that Mr. Hound was quickly running out of floor to vacuum. He had avoided her this whole time, but now he was coming closer and closer to the couch. Sansa felt suddenly panicked by his proximity.  _ Should I get up and make space? Should I bring my feet to the couch so he can vacuum?  _

Without warning Mr. Hound disassembled the vacuum cleaner so it was just the hand attachment, and dropped on one knee. Sansa nearly jumped out of her skin, almost dropping her book into her lap. Slipping his calloused hands under her ankles, he gently lifted up her legs and put them on his shoulder, then commenced to hand vacuum the floor between the couch and the coffee table. 

_ He can see right up my skirt,  _ that was the first thing that was absolutely clear. The short flowered dress Sansa wore was loose and flowy, his shoulder much higher than the coffee table. It was a matter of very simple physics, and even if that hadn’t been apparent to Sansa, that devilish grin on his face would have given his intentions away.

“No touching,” she raised her voice over the sound of the vacuum, but he made as if he didn't hear it. 

_ What a saucy man!  _ She should have been angry, but she couldn’t help herself from smiling -- even if that smile never made it to her lips.

His beard tickled her calves a bit, tipping her body over the edge, making it betray her. A sudden rush of wetness came to her little yellow panties, she could feel it dripping through her lips permeating their satin material. Sansa could have killed him, and yet, nobody had ever teased her quite this way. Nobody had ever pushed her to speak up or challenge them. She enjoyed it, thoroughly.

Pleased with himself, and his free view, Mr. Hound turned off the vacuum cleaner and placed her feet back on the coffee table. Casually running his finger along the sole of her foot before putting away the vacuum.

“I thought there was no touching, you broke the rules,” she pointed out.

At that he chuckled, “Little Miss goes by the rules, but didn’t read the fine print. The no touching rule is for my protection, not yours.” 

He let it sink in a moment. Sansa was wide eyed, flabbergasted, shocked that he would be so bold as to say such a thing. It was utterly ridiculous that a man like Mr. Hound would need any sort of protection given his size and generally intimidating look. But then again, if every woman wanted to jump his bones as intensely as Sansa did now, perhaps he did require some buffer. 

Then, her burly companion crossed his arms.

“What’s your favorite color?” He asked, unable to hide his triumphant grin, “Mine’s yellow now.” 

All the color drained from her face, she didn’t know whether to be furious or to tell him to come straddle her on the sofa. Mr. Hound had no tact, he was bold, argumentative, everything she thought she wouldn’t like in man--but found herself liking all the same. He broke the rules, or at the very least bent them, and he was making zero apologies about stealing a look between her legs. 

Immediately Sansa thought about having him take off an article of clothing as punishment, but then thought better of it. Aside from the fact he would expect that, and she didn’t want another saucy comment to leave his mouth. She also wasn’t sure if she could handle him without his jeans.  _ No, I definitely couldn’t handle him without his jeans, s _ he corrected herself.

“So you have another job, or do you do this full time?” Her attempt at conversation was abysmal, but she seriously had to abandon her oversexualized thoughts. 

Mr. Hound didn’t look up from what he was doing, his bare chest flexing every time he swung the feather duster around, “I do this for extra money.”

“So you work in construction? Or as a gym instructor?” She proffered.

Mr. Hound stopped a moment, an annoyed look on his face, “None of your business.” 

It was a playful jab, but Sansa could tell it was not as light hearted as the others. She chose to dig deeper anyway.

“I was just curious as to how a man could support a family cleaning houses naked,” she’d slipped it into conversation before she realized what she was doing. 

He didn’t miss a beat though.

“If you wanted to ask if I’m single,” he grinned broadly at the thought of it, “you just had to ask. See something you like, Little Bird? Or do you just like getting your feathers ruffled?”

Sansa weighed the idea of what she should say in her head. She couldn’t simply brush off his words, but how to answer. “Well you are very pleasing…”

His laugh was cold, “There you go again chirping your niceties, instead of saying what you really think.” 

Mr. Hound made his way to the couch. Sansa stood, unwilling to have him trick her into seeing her panties again. His scent entered her nostrils again, woody with a bit of pepper. It had to be his aftershave or beard cleanser, because the perfume was strongest closest to his face.

“You tell me what you like, but with real words.” They were mere inches apart.

Sansa sucked in breath. She could feel the warmth of his body, she was tempted to touch him--but knew she shouldn’t. “Your chest is quite…”

“Wrong, try again,” he whispered it that time, as if he wanted only her to hear. 

There was a long silence where she didnt know what to say or even how to say it. When Mr. Hound realized this, it didn’t take him long to capitalize, “What makes that sweet cunny of yours wet, girl? What makes you slip your fingers into those little yellow panties and moan?”

Her breath hitched, and Sansa felt like she would faint. “I….” she couldn't dare tell him it was his attitude or the way he teased her. That she needed to feel every inch of his body. That she wanted him to stuff her like a Thanksgiving turkey right there on the living room floor. Sansa felt stuck in a silly romance story where the roles were reversed. Where he was using everything at his disposal to seduce her, and she was resisting. Resisting because she didn’t want to be hurt again, because she didn’t know if she could trust him. 

“I think my bedroom needs to be next,” she said, and watched the fire in his eyes wither.

Mr. Hound exhaled, and took a step back. “Just as I thought, chicken shit.”

Turning back to his cleaning supplies, Mr. Hound packed them up with haste and moved down the hall. 

* * *

_ You’re such a fucking idiot, Clegane,  _ Sandor ran his fingers through his hair and took refuge in Sansa’s room. He’d put himself out there, hoping that she might admit her seuxal desires to him, break that little air of properness. 

But she had not. 

A boundary had been overstepped by his actions. He had made a move on a customer, and that could really make for a proper complaint.  _ Enough to get my stupid ass fired. _

Sandor thought of Stranger, knowing he didn’t have much time to come up with the funds. That horse was everything to him, a friend, a confidant and about the best card player he could imagine--even if cheated all the damn time.  _ I need to get through this, and maybe one more job--then I can go back to what I do best. Being alone! _

Then his mind went to Sansa unbid. It had been a long time since he’d felt something for a woman, other than just plain lust. He couldn’t put his finger on it, nor would he have to after the complete rejection she had just doled out to him.  _ I’ve been a complete shit bag to both of them,  _ he exhaled deeply at the thought.

Setting his phone down on Sansa’s dresser, he considered packing up and leaving. Maybe it would be better, save them both the awkwardness of this flirting game that was obviously leading to a dead end.. Sandor didn’t want to just flirt, he wanted more,  _ I wanna make that girl howl to the Seven Heavens,  _ he realized. 

The vibration of his phone startled him at first, nearly making him jump. Then it made him grin,  _ That cheeky little bird, perhaps I didn’t fuck up too bad after all.  _ Sandor let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. __

“Excuse the mess,” he heard her voice say from behind him, “as you so rightfully pointed out, last night was a bit of a blurr.”

Sandor hadn’t even looked at the room until she said something, but quickly understood why she had mentioned it. The Little Bird had had a rough night no question about that. Clothing was strewn all over the floor, as if she and two other women had exploded out of their outfits,  _ Not that I would have a problem with that,  _ Sandor smirked.

The bed was a mess of sheets so crumpled up the mattress was showing. Her purse was opened and tipped over in the corner, its contents scattered around as if somebody had looked frantically for something. Sandor’s eyes then panned to her dresser, the makeup was askew, like she’d used it to steady herself on the way to the master bathroom. 

Shrugging, Sandor unbuttoned his pants slowly watching as her eyes fixed on his fingers.  _ She wants it so bad but something’s holding her back. She acts like she’s never seen a naked guy before, though that can’t be true. At least I hope not. _

Pulling his jeans over his hips and stepping out his legs, Sandor contemplated the mixture of fear and curiosity on her face.  _ She’s always fighting between running to, or away from me.  _

He wore black boxer shorts, tight to his body and cropped in the upper third of this thigh. White was never an option when taking a cleaning job, because sometimes you didn’t want to encourage your clients any more than you already were.  _ I’m starting to think white would be better--give her a little wet shorts contest.  _

Sansa’s mouth was slightly open, her eyes wide like it wasn’t possible to fill out his as he did. But he did, and he knew it.

What Sandor had not anticipated, was that she'd get hot enough under the collar to actually unzip that stuffy cardigan she was wearing. Pretty girls often made Sandor’s temper flare, because they used their beauty against the weaker sex. Usually Sandor avoided them all together, not wanting to get caught up in their games. But Sansa Sansa Stark was not like other women. She was beautiful, stunning, gorgeous--all the adjectives he could think of. Yet, she was alluring to him simply by the fact that she had no idea she was all those things. 

_ Who’s teasing whom?  _ Sandor thought, feeling his body jump to life at the sight of a low neckline and two perfectly rounded, tiny breasts.

“I’m guessing you don’t get guys to clean for you so often,” Sandor looked around and started to tidy the room. His boxer shorts had begun to feel tight, so getting his mind off her gorgeous tits and onto her dusty lamp, meant he could avoid revealing his true feelings. 

She sat on the bed and blushed a bit, “No, not at all. Aside from my ex, I don’t think I’ve ever seen another…” she trailed off immediately as if she’s shared far too much. 

Sandor somehow wasn’t shocked. Everything in her house had pointed to a very recent breakup. Three chairs in the kitchen instead of 6, an odd number of mugs, the TV on a makeshift table. Somebody had left the house in haste, and she didn’t seem to be the kind of girl that had roommates. The fact that she had just admitted she’d never seen another man naked other than her ex though, had Sandor’s mind racing. 

He had always wanted a bad girl, never having given thought to any other kind. There were things that came with the territory unfortunately, and Sandor had been played on, tossed around, used, verbally abused--everything under the sun. Yet, something titillated him about  _ this _ good girl. The little bird with her feathers all ruffled at the slightest ensnuation of sex. Sandor found it endearing, likeable,  _ And she’s got a bit of bite in her, she’s just never tried it out before. _

“I own a ranch,” he admitted, looking over at her to see her reaction. He wanted to put her at ease by sharing something personal, it was a gamble. “A good sized one outside of King’s Landing. I need a little money so my horse can have surgery. I can’t afford it on the money I make, so I’m moonlighting.”

Her entire demeanor changed when she heard that. It made Sandor wonder what was running through her head. Perhaps it was the way her eyes softened at the notion he was exploiting himself for his animal, or the way her eyebrows furrowed as if she felt sorry for his situation, that gave him pause. Sandor didn’t want her to feel sorry for him, he just wanted to connect over something other than his body.

Unsure what she would say next, he made light of the situation “So you’d better make me earn my money, girl. Unless you’re afraid to see a cock.”

He could hear her chuckle, and he knew he’d made progress. It was a dark chuckle, the one that foretold of bad things that would come his way for being so insolent. Just as expected, his phone vibrated where he’d placed it on her dresser. 

Sandor turned to her, their eyes locked. Sansa had pressed the button before she’d thought it through, her surprise punctuated by the reddening of her chest. Walking over to where she sat on her bed, Sandor made sure her eyes were almost dick level, “Sure you don’t wanna reconsider?” 

He made his voice deeper than usual, knowing that was one of the things women loved about him.The young red-head gave him a defiant smile, even if she wasn’t truly ready for what was about to happen. Surprised by the fact he’d actually wanted to tease her, Sandor ran his index fingers into the band of his boxers--watching her eyes follow them. 

There was no doubt she liked him, even if she’d refused to share her sexual desires with him earlier. Moving his hands from his waistband to his chest, he smirked at the fact that her eyes were following his hands with an open hungar. Then, his fingers slipped to his hair tie, loosening it from his head and letting his long dark hair fall. Flicking the hair tie onto her lap, he grinned, and went to continue tidying up her room.

She didn’t hide the shock in her voice, “That’s not an article of clothing! That’s a hair tie!” 

“To hell it is,” he grinned, knowing he’d properly set her off.  _ She’s furious, little feathers all puffed up. _

He turned and they smiled at each other. Sandor felt an odd weight being lifted from him. For the first time in a long time, he shared a laugh with a woman. And not just any woman, a pretty one, who was much more than her looks. A little attitude, a little sass, that sort of stuff makes the world go round.  _ Her ex must have been a bloody tosser. _

“You can, um...pick up my clothes while you're at it,” she said, and he knew her eyes were on him. 

Silently Sandor went to pick up the multitude of garments strewn across the floor. A few pairs of jeans, which he put in her laundry bin. There were also some sweaters, a few tank tops, and a lacy bra. 

_ MMMM _ , the bra was a sexy little thing, and Sandor didn’t have to think too hard to imagine her in it. The only problem was, the very thought of her in her underwear was making him excited, making his cock do things it normally wouldn’t given the circumstances. 

The blood started entering his member, making it press against his boxer shorts, tenting them slightly. There would be no hiding his state of arousal from her, she was watching him too closely. So he didn’t, as a matter of fact he made sure she could see it. Turning to the side to put her bra in the laundry bin, Sandor wanted her to see how big he was getting for her.  _ Maybe that’s what she’s wanted to see all along? _

Sansa watched him through hooded eyes, and he knew her thoughts had turned lustful. A lacy worn thong that he found draped over a chair made Sandor lose it. He was hard, and he wanted her to touch him. 

“You missed something, Mr. Hound,” turning to her, Sandor wasn’t at all ready for what met his eyes. The little minx had removed her sundress, and thrown it dismissively to the floor. She was standing there in a pair of yellow panties and a little yellow bra, not so unlike the things he’d been picking up from the floor. 

Now he was hard as a rock, his cock extending to his limit under his shorts. It was hurting actually, but if Sandor adjusted it higher it would come out of his band, lower out the bottom of his tight shorts.  _ So what to do?  _

They stared at one another in her bedroom, Sandor waiting for an obvous invitation to touch her, to caress her, to fuck the living shit out of her. When nothing happened for some beats, he knew he needed to get out of the room before he wrestled her down to the bed. 

“Shit,” he mumbled, grabbing his pail of cleaning supplies and making his way toward the master bathroom. Both palms on the edge of the sink, he looked down at the drain as if he were going to find lost treasure there. It was then, at that very moment, that he heard this phone vibrate from the other room. 

Sandor smirked, for he was all out of hair ties.


	4. The Deep Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa finally gets the deep clean she's been waiting for. Lemons for all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've made it this far! Finally these two will see some action but a warning -- there are no condoms in this chapter. I know there's a lot of discussion one way or the other with modern AUs, so if that is something displeasing to you then the first half of the chapter is fine, the second half might not be your speed.
> 
> I do not condone unsafe sex with a real life naked cleaner you just met, so please protect yourself :-) 
> 
> A huge thanks should also go to CTW for her guidance, help and just the fun we had writing this together! Hugs!

#  Chapter 4: The Deep Clean

_ What am I doing? And why does it feel so good?  _ Sansa took a moment to catch her breath, only narrowly preventing a fit of hyperventilation.  _ I did it. I hit the button. And now…. _

The young redhead was caught up in a witch’s brew of emotions and lust. The overwhelming need of her mind and body dependent on the perfect mix of ingredients. Mr. Hound’s attitude, what it brought out in her, their playful banter,  _ Our sexual chemistry.  _

Sansa sighed feeling a tear well up in her eye before quickly brushing it away. She had always wanted this kind of connection with a man, but never thought it could really happen. In Sansa’s world liking someone and sex appeal were two mutually exclusive things. She had always been prepared to give up that sexual beast she knew to be inside for safety and comfort. A stable job, a good husband, a reputation--Sansa had been brought up to cherish and want all of those things. Now, if life had taught her anything, it was to seize the day--to put her own wants above the expectations of others.

_ Why can’t I just let loose and do what pleases me? Why can’t I just be daring for once in my life? _ Sansa’s eyes moved from the spot on the floor she had been watching.

From her seat on the bed, Sansa leaned over to catch a glimpse of her hunky cleaner. Though he had been confident enough to tease her--flaunting how much her bra and panties excited him--when it came to taking off  _ his  _ boxers, Mr. Hound had turned tail. Sansa felt an odd comfort that they both had the ability to be shy, even if he did cover it up better than she did.

_ I should thank Arya a million times for insisting on a cleaner with an...impressive size,  _ Sansa smirked at the thought of how erotic it was to see his humongous erection strain against his thin cotton underwear. Never in her life had she seen anything so awe-inspiring between a man’s legs. 

_ Even if I’ve only ever seen one erection in my life, _ she nearly rolled her eyes at how stupid she had been all these years.

The doorway to the bathroom and the sink were perfectly aligned, so it wasn’t hard for Sansa to get a good look at Mr. Hound. Her naked cleaner had removed his boxers with haste, because they were on the ground by the time she saw him. That didn’t, however, make what met her eyes any less delicious. 

He was standing at the sink, legs apart. Mr. Hound’s gorgeous, well rounded bum jutting out in all its splendor.  _ And by the Mother, did she create some splendor,  _ Sansa’s eyes were popping out of her head. He might as well have been cast in marble instead of human flesh, his taut skin over strong muscles more a work of art than than the product of a gym. 

The gentle part of his legs hinted at the true size of his entire package. Hastily moving things around the sink to look busy, Sansa could see how every movement, shake, and bend made his balls jiggle. The harder she looked between his legs, the more she could see, and it made her core throb more insistently. 

_ Oh by the gods, he was put on this earth just for me.  _ Sansa could barely fight the impulse to snake her hand between his thighs from behind and caress his large sack. She wanted to fondle it, feel its weight in her hand.  _ Make him suck in breath while I massage every part of his manhood,  _ her mind was running wild, in directions it never had before..

_ I could lose myself in such fantasies _ , Sansa grinned openly. Then, when Mr. Hound turned to the side, she nearly orgasimed in her little yellow underwear set. 

This time Sansa made no effort to hide her gaze or give the man before her some privacy. Sansa Stark, captain of the cheerleading team, all A’s honor roll, best new PR consultant of the year gawked unapologetically at her beautiful stranger’s junk. 

_ This feels like heaven. No it is heaven,  _ she corrected herself. __

Mr. Hound’s lower half was in complete proportion with everything else on his body, which meant he basically had a monster living between his legs. A well groomed bit of pubic hair on his pelvic bone formed the base of his massive penis. It was thick, even from afar, Sansa wasn’t sure she’d be able to wrap her fingers round it completely. 

_ Maybe you’re exaggerating...or maybe not…,  _ her mind again going to places it had never before.

Her mouth literally hung open. Mr. Hound’s perfectly shaped erection protruded boldly from between his legs, nearly reaching the height of his belly button. The gentle curve upward toward its tip made her think of those G-spot toys Arya had shared with her once on the internet, when she was lonely and Joff was “out.” The head of his penis had ballooned to a size big enough so that, if she could take that, she could take the rest of it. 

_ Though it might be a struggle to get it in...oh stop it, Sansa. He’s not a prostitute, he’s just here to give you a thrill. No sex, that’s what the flyer said. NO SEX! _ Sansa nearly swatted herself for even thinking this could go beyond the terms and conditions on a piece of paper.  _ He’s doing it for his horse after all, just to make quick money. What a sweet guy though... _

Sansa’s eyes moved back to Mr. Hound, or rather to his most prized possession. Her naked cleaner had foreskin, which was unusual for Westerosi. It was tight to his shaft, only just covering the bottom part of his head.  _ Beautiful,  _ a word she never thought she would use to describe a penis.

Ripping her eyes from him so she could get her heart rate back down to normal, Sansa noticed Mr. Hound left his feather duster on her dresser in his haste to get to the bathroom. Her mind was on sexual overdrive, the deviant thoughts far outweighing the proper ones. With a naughty smirk on her face, Sansa picked up the discarded cleaning tool.

She stopped at the entrance to the bathroom and took in the glorious view. Of all the parts of the house, Sansa liked this one best. She’d paid extra money to have it renovated. The doorframe was right across from the sink, with a modern oval shaped mirror hung from the ceiling. To the right of the sink there was the toilet, nothing super fancy about it. On the left hand side, however, there was her open shower with a stone bench. It was a piece of art. It took up the whole width of the room, probably able to fit 4 or 5 people easily.

The three walls of the shower were in a light grey stone, a bench running along the width of the shower, with a large smoked window above it. The showerhead was on one wall, and on the other a rack for the towels. A glass door made the entire shower visible once inside the bathroom, open, clean looking, modern, beautiful. 

She looked around for something he could use the duster on, something to aid her in her plan. Her eyes searched her bathroom and found nothing that could help her,  _ Unless… _ Her eyes shifted above her and she grinned.

“You shouldn’t miss the door frame,” she found herself saying, her voice much lower than it normally was. “I think it hasn’t been cleaned in…,” Sansa paused, trying to find the right words, “...a very long time.” 

_ Oh gods, was that a metaphor for my sex life?  _ Sansa almost laughed at how stupid an excuse it was to have him come over to her, to reach himself to the top of her nearly 7.5 foot tall door frame so she oggle him more.  _ But he’s here for that, and no one could say he’s not enjoying himself _ .

Mr. Hound turned around, his head cocked to the side with a dangerous smirk on it.  _ He knows the game,  _ she thought, and  _ he’s eating it up just as much as I am. And I can barely breath. _

He walked over to her, his erection large, his body as wide as the door frame. They were mere inches apart, his fingers brushing up against her own as he took the feather duster from her hand. The rise and fall of Mr. Hound’s chest matched her own, giving Sansa comfort that he was as into her as she was into him. 

It was his eyes that struck her the most. Their color was so unusual. They reminded her of wet pomace, a light grey that reflected the light as if they were made of steel. Sansa imagined they could have been cold if they wanted to be, scary even--but not to her. There was a warmth in them, a fire that made Sansa weak in her knees.

Placing his free hand on the top of the door frame, and the other using the feather duster, Sansa nearly fainted at the sight of him. Stretched out in front of her with both arms above his head, Mr. Hound had the body of a gymnast. His meaty shoulders and lats formed the perfect V shape down to his waist. His abs rippled under his tightly cropped and well kept chest hair. It was an enticing trail from his neck to below his belly button, then on to the base of his magnificent penis. 

_ A woman needs a trail like that,  _ she reasoned,  _ with so much man it’d be easy to get lost. _

Sansa shuddered, she wanted him so badly to the point that she was almost orgaisming just from the teasing,  _ Has it been so long since you’ve felt this alive?  _ Sansa scolded herself for not dumping Joff when she had the chance--for not giving into that voice in her head earlier.  _ But then again, all roads have led me to him. And I don’t even know him beyond that ridiculous stage name. _

“Ooops,” as if it had a life of its own, the feather duster sprung from Mr. Hound’s capable hands, its soft feathers fluttering while it fell toward the floor.

A cocky eyebrow raised, and a cheeky grin spread across his face. Mr. Hound knew what he was doing to her, and he wasn’t afraid to exercise his power over her. “How about you get that for me, Little Bird?” 

_ Shouldn’t I be giving the orders?  _ It was but a fleeting thought, because she couldn’t resist calling his bluff. They were so dangerously close to the end of this game and she had to know how it ended, needed to see it to its conclusion.  _ But two can play at this game. _

Placing the tips of her fingers lightly on either side of his stretched torso, only barely touching him, Sansa sank slowly and confidently to her knees. Her hands followed her downward movement toward the floor, running over his tight abs, his narrow waist, and then over his bulging thighs. When she stopped she was at the level of his manhood, his thick member pointing over her head. 

She resisted her darkest thoughts, and decided oral sex would be far too forward.  _ We’re teasing right? Patience is key, and the flyer did say NO SEX! _

Their eyes locked, and she could see he was battling just as much as she was. His cock lept at her, a flinch from his lower abs making it move. From her perspective it looked as long as her face, and really the most beautiful, arousing thing she had seen in her whole life. 

_ It belongs in a museum,  _ she smiled.

Steadying herself on the doorframe, so as not to pass out embarrassingly in front of him, Sansa gripped the duster. Allowing it to caress his skin as she drew up his leg, Sansa made no effort to hide her wanton smile. Her satin covered breasts, though not large, could not avoid his jutting manhood, ghosting over it too. The feather duster eventually made its way back to him, even if the route was longer and more winding than intended. 

When she reached her full height, their eyes met. His tone was playful, “You teasing, sexy bitch.” 

Before now, Sansa would have never thought being called such a word would make her feel weak in the knees, but, coming from Mr. Hound’s mouth, it most certainly did. Her knees giving without any warning, Sansa reached out to steady herself. She missed his shoulder only to find that he had taken the liberty to scoop her up in his capable arms. In one fluid motion he had turned them, so he could steady her on the sink. Her bum pressed against the cold porcelain, her hands gripped his shoulders for support as their lips fought for supremacy. 

There was a roughness to his movements and a hastiness to his kissing that only served to stoke the fire burning in Sansa further. His hold on her was firm, with the fingers of one hand gripping her hip like a vice, the fingers of the other lacing into her hair so he could take control of her head. Had she wanted to pry herself from his hands, it would have been nearly impossible, his strength and his lust rooting her in place. All Sansa could do was sink her nails into the huge muscles of his back, not caring for the deep scratches she would surely leave behind. 

It was her first time kissing a man with a beard, and Sansa loved how it pricked her lips, neck, and now her breast. Using his teeth, Mr. Hound had very adeptly pulled part of her bra down to gain access to one of her nipples. Her back arched into him, his mouth warm on her cold skin. 

Unable to resist the urge to run her fingers through his long hair, Sansa smiled. It was soft between her fingers, and she slowly realized it was yet another way in which to communicate her desire to her partner. The more he sucked and teased her nipples, the tighter she fisted his hair, eliciting a moan from the big man.  _ Gods, how can he know exactly what I want? _

“Fuck,” she muttered and didn’t even feel ashamed at her use of foul language. Mr. Hound chuckled into her breast the tip of his rock hard cock playing with her satin covered entrance. _ I want this. No, I need this. _

His lips came back to hers and not a few seconds later she felt the clasp of her bra unsnap, then loosen. Not wanting to take both hands off of him at the same time, Sansa kept the fingers of her right hand on his chest, while shrugging her left arm out of the bra. Then she switched hands, shrugging her right arm out.

“I have to feel you,” he whispered into her ear, his voice deep. Before Sansa knew it, she could feel a finger snake between the crotch of her panties and her lower lips. In an instant her panties had been moved to the side, the bulging head of his erection slipping up and down her neatly trimmed folds. 

Just the feeling of him was enough to make Sansa moan. His manhood was smooth, solid and felt as large as she knew it to be. It was so much more satisfying that she could have imagined. Mr. Hounds tip teased her relentlessly, only making her more lascivious with each movement of his hips. He was grunting quietly into her ear while she explored his neck with her mouth. She was tasting him unabashed, and it felt so good. 

When neither of them could stand the build up anymore, they pulled their heads back. Sansa liked that hungry look in Mr. Hound’s eye. There was a spark in it which told her it was tempered with something more. 

_ I hope he likes me,  _ she realized,  _ but it’s ok if he doesn’t.  _ There was a certain power to knowing this, a freedom that came with feeling sexual independence.

Their lips met again, their kisses strong and deliberate. The way they were positioned it would have been easy for Sansa to slip herself onto his manhood, catch him at the right moment so he could sooth her aching core. Yet she did not. There was a calculated need within her to let him lead, to give into the tall, dangerous stranger in her home. He was a fantasy come to life, and in that fantasy she needed to give into him completely. 

Suddenly his head turned, a sinister chuckle rumbling in Mr. Hound’s throat. In one breath he had lifted Sansa easily from the sink, in a second he had skillfully pulled her panties so they were hanging around her ankles. Squealing in both surprise and delight, Sansa wrapped her arms around her lover’s neck even tighter. 

“There’s one more dirty thing that needs cleaning,” he whispered in her ear, his beard tickling her ear. 

“Me?” Sansa answered innocently,  _ He’s going to turn around and take me right to the bed, oh by the gods it’s finally time.  _

“Nope,” Mr. Hound answered, and Sansa rocked back in utter shock. 

The corners of his mouth slowly drew themselves into a self satisfied grin,  _ He loves getting a rise out of me.  _ Feeling his manhood pressed firmly against her, Sansa couldn’t deny she liked returning the favor.

“Look at all the grout in that shower,” his head turned to her roomy, walk-in shower. “I think it’s gonna need a very deep clean.” 

They shared a smile for the second time that day, and Sansa couldn’t wait to know him better.

* * *

As far as lotteries went, Sandor was pretty sure he’d won the best of them. It was rare, if not unimaginable, to pull a woman like Sansa in his normal day-to-day activities. Between doing odd jobs on his ranch, getting the cattle to market, and watching the sun go down over the wilderness he called home, women rarely fit in. 

_ She’d never leave the city for me. She just wants a little fun, so don’t get attached.  _ Sandor always gave himself good advice, even if he rarely followed it. 

_ This girl has something about her that makes me wanna fucking spoil her.  _ A cheeky grin on his face, Sandor easily carried his Little Bird into her huge shower and turned the water on. He chuckled when she hissed at the feeling of the ice cold droplets hitting her skin. 

_ I’m such a dick,  _ Sandor laughed to himself. Then again, he wanted to watch her beautiful peachy nipples pucker up with the sudden drop of temperature. He needed to feel the goosebumps forming on her skin, and there was no better way than ice cold water. To her credit Sansa shook off her initial shock and wrapped her fingers around his cock, caressing her object of desire

Never in his naughtiest dreams would Sandor have said this girl, with her flowery little apron, and her perfect little house, was daring enough to jump his bones within hours of meeting. A little goodie two shoes on the outside, and, as he was quickly finding out, a little hell cat on the inside. Sandor grunted as she raised one leg to his hip, granting him even more freedom to rub his throbbing cock against her. __

_ She’s gonna fuck me and she doesn’t even know my name,  _ Sandor smirked into her neck.  _ She’ll moan it soon enough.  _

Sandor pinned Sansa against the cold stone wall of her shower, the water slipping through the very narrow gaps between them. Her hands were all over his shoulders and torso, gripping the hair that covered his chest with force. Her lips followed his, occasionally giving him a nip of encouragement.

What got him the most though, were the noises she made. The girl wasn’t silent, not by far. The shower amplified her little moans and groans, quickly filling the room with the sounds of foreplay. All the little yeses and curses stroked Sandor’s ego, spurring him to rub against Sansa’s wet naked body. Gripping her ass cheeks firmly in both hands, he lifted her from the ground, her legs coming reflexively around his waist. 

Sandor’s cock was between them. Thick, hard and loving all the attention.  _ Don’t get too spoiled now,  _ he joked to his excited lower half. 

They were so tightly pressed against the shower wall, Sandor didn’t even need to use his arms to keep her there. Instead he took the opportunity to snake his hand down her ass and dip his fingers into her little honey pot. 

“Fuck,” he moaned, feeling her warmth squeeze around two of his digits. 

“Mmmmmm…” was the only sound Sansa made as she eagerly used her position, and her legs, to pump up and down on his hand. 

His thumb massaged her ass, and he couldn’t help but smile into her neck when she didn’t shy away from it.  _ She’s a little beast, and all I need to do is draw it out of her.  _

Without warning Sandor loosened his grip, forcing Sansa to put her feet back on the slippery floor of the shower. He turned her around quickly pushing her chest against the wall and forcing her palms flat on the stone. There was no bad side to changing it up in Sandor’s book, and he needed to keep her on her toes, lest she give in too early to a lust induced trance. 

Sandor’s lips slid down her wet neck, and he could feel her skin prick in response. He couldn’t help but give her a playful slap on the ass, enjoying the pop it made almost as much as her sweet laughter. It had been so long since he’d had fun with someone, Sandor had almost forgotten what it felt like -- and how much he needed it.

Their bodies were nearly one. Sandor looked down to see Sansa’s backside flush against his hips, the backs of her gorgeous legs right up against his thighs. What made it all the more sexy was how her back arched, accentuating her body and letting Sandor know her flexibility. Sandor’s cock rested on her ass and lower back, “A fucking work of art,” he said without thinking.

She looked at him over her shoulder, the most beautiful river nymph he’d ever seen. Sansa’s blue eyes sparkled with excitement. Her red hair, made darker by the water, stuck to the side of her face, shoulder, breasts. It was picture worthy, something he wanted to sear into his mind forever.

“I’m ready for my deep clean, Mr. Hound,” she had a mischievous grin when she said it. Sandor found himself chuckling because it really was the cheesiest line he could have thought of at that moment.  _ But shit, isn’t this situation just that? Unbelievable. _

Placing his feet on the inside of her own to spread her legs wider, Sandor grabbed himself by the base and teased her pussy. His other hand gripped her ass, spreading her cheeks apart so he could see the little puckering of her cute pink ass hole.  _ I’m never this lucky, ever. _

It didn’t take him long to find her heat, and even less time for her to settle back on his cock. Sandor sucked in breath while he slid inside of her. “Fuck me, Mr. Hound, fuck me hard.” Sansa moaned so deep and throaty, he bloody nearly lost it right then and there. 

Taking her hip so as to guide her, Sandor wrapped his other hand around her body to grab her neck from the front. There was no chance for her to move, no way to wriggle out of their embrace. Sansa’s cheek was flat against the shower wall, her palms braced on the grey tile.

Sandor began to pound her, the water providing a loud popping sound when their bodies slapped together. He could feel her vocal chords vibrate under his fingers, while she wantonly screamed for him to fuck her more--and harder. His little banshee had, however, underestimated how deep his cock could reach because she tried in vain to roll up on her toes.

“That’s cheating _ ,”  _ he grinned into her ear, tightening his grip on her further.

Her cunt was tight and warm around his length. With every hard thrust her walls fought in a losing battle to push him out. Sandor felt Sansa’s hand grip his ass pushing him deeper and harder inside her.  _ She’s gonna fucking milk me five minuets in,  _ Sandor thought, alarmed.

Not wanting their encounter to end prematurely, Sandor had to think fast. Releasing Sansa he knelt behind her and took in the view. She hadn’t quite understood what was happening yet, her head turning behind her, then readjusting to see him down below. From this angle he could see everything from her hungry little pussy, to her breasts, to that little pout on her lips because he’d left her so abruptly. A smirk on his face, Sandor made himself at home between her pert little ass cheeks. 

She tasted good, there were few other words to describe it. Sweet, heady all the things Sandor loved about eating pussy were contained right here, in this perfect woman. Sandor brought his hand to her clit, rubbing it mercilessly from his position behind her. The reward for his good behavior was the increased arch of her back and the persistent pushing of her cunt more and more over his tongue. His little wild cat was heating up, her movements more erratic, her clit engorged to its fullest under the careful play of his fingers. 

_ I need her to come on my cock though,  _ Sandor hoped he wasn’t making a mistake by switching from his tongue to his cock,  _ I guess we’ll find out.  _

Keeping his one hand on her pleasure button, Sandor stood, then entered her swiftly. He couldn’t help but lean forward on her, his lips near her ear, his beard tickling her neck. “Take this cock,” he whispered, hoping she could hear him over the sounds of her own moans. The little minx was on fire, pressed hard against the stone and soaked to the bone. 

When she did come it was sudden, her screams were so loud they filled the bathroom overtaking the sound of the water. Sansa leaned her head back so that it nearly fell on his shoulder, his fingers stroking her neck possessively. 

After some beats, Sandor reluctantly removed himself from her heat. Smirking, he grabbed Sansa by the wrist leading her to the shower bench. Her eager move to straddle him was denied. “Feet here,” Sandor patted the space on either side of his thighs. 

His beautiful redhead’s eyes widened in delightful surprise. Part of her was so chaste, so innocent that Sandor couldn’t believe she’d chosen to grace him with this level of intimacy. Using his shoulder to steady herself, she made to squat on his cock.

Sandor shook his head, again. “Put your hands on the windowsill,” his eyes looked above to the window, “and spread your legs.”

No sooner had he said those words, than he was staring at a neatly trimmed little fire pussy. He took it in, watched the water trickle down her body trailing down her neck, over her breasts and past her belly button. Sandor had no plan knowing only that he had to taste her again. He gripped the back of her legs and brought her to his mouth. Sansa’s pussy was spread wide from his cock, giving his tongue easy access to her core from this angle. She tasted like a late summer mead, making Sandor lap up her arousal like the dog he knew himself to be. 

He made circles with his tongue, sure to flick her clit at the top. She was a slave to his mouth, quickly understanding that the more she ground her hips against his face, the more pressure he could give her. “Ohhhhhh, mmmmmmm,” were the only sounds she was capable of making. It was beyond pleasing to watch her enjoy, but it was getting cold too.

Sandor stopped, his lover looked down at him surprised. “You’re shaking,” he said, the bottoms of her breasts so beautiful from this angle. 

“But I don’t want you to stop,” she smiled trying to cover her shivers.

Shifting his gaze to his painfully erect cock, Sansa’s eyes followed, “Does it look like I’m stoppin’, girl?”

She shook her head, stepping off the bench. Sandor turned the water off and led her to the bedroom. They were still soaking wet when they got on the bed, the sheets and duvet taking in much of the water. Sandor pulled Sansa on top of him, enjoying her weight on his body. Kissing was never something he felt he needed to do, but with Sansa, he found himself unable to stop. Her lips were so eager, her desire so pure, that it drew him in--even gave him hope.

The little minx kissed her way down his chest, making her way over his abs and below his belly button. She teased the tip of his cock with her mouth, and Sandor laid his head back to enjoy. Her soft kisses and her gentle licks made the blood surge into his member all the more. The delicate caress of her fingers over his balls was far from tentative. Sansa massaged them as the tip of his cock glided in and out of her mouth. Just knowing she was tasting herself made him moan, the feeling of being properly spoiled spreading through this entire body. Her tongue was adventurous as it explored him, the amount of suction she was putting on his head absolutely perfect.  _ She could do this forever,  _ he grinned, taking a moment to look down at her. 

She was aching for more, that was what her eyes told him. Their deep blue color, combined with a gentle smattering of light freckles on her cheeks told the tale of a good girl gone bad. Hungry, needing, and filled with desire Sandor couldn’t deny her anything. 

Sandor sat up, his finger trailing over a cock filled cheek. They shared a lustful smile, while he guided her to the head of the bed. Laying on her back, Sandor didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing her beautiful red hair fanned out on the pillow, a satisfied grin on her face. Between her spread legs, Sandor teased his Little Bird. He began nipping and kissing the bottom of one foot he had put over his shoulder and massaging the other. His straining erection rested on her mound. She was so wet his cock was slipping over her clit with a soft pressure that was making her fist the sheets. His lips turned to the other foot, nippling a toe while watching her thrash with unrequited lust below him.

Only when she couldn’t take it anymore, when Sandor felt Sansa jerk with the beginnings of her orgasam, did he fill her again. It was a swift motion, a slightly longer movement of the hips that aligned them perfectly. He leaned over her, his hands on either side of her head. She was a flexible little thing, and, with her feet around his ears, there was almost no way he could be deeper. Sandor chose long slow thrusts, watching her eyes roll back into her head with delight. Once stable enough, the naughty Mr. Hound took a hand and placed it between them, rubbing her clit at a much faster pace than he was fucking her. 

The combination worked, she shattered soon after that. Her cries so deep and wanton, he could barely believe they had come from the same woman. Sansa’s ragged breaths, the pulsing of her pussy, her flushed cheeks,  _ Don’t fall in love with her on the first date, Dog.  _ Yet Sandor knew, if he was already thinking it, it was too late. 

Kissing her on the cheek, Sandor sat back on his heels and let her enjoy her moment. The fluttering of her eyelashes as she came back to him was akin to a fairytale princess awakening from a long and peaceful slumber. Her hair matted to her temple and her naughty little grin, only told Sandor he’d have to work harder this time.

Easily moving her left leg between his thighs and keeping her right one over his shoulder, Sandor made sure to run his beard down her calf. A satisfied moan escaped her mouth as his lips joined the party, kissing her up to behind her knee. Sansa shuddered then, her knee being a sensitive place he was sure few had kissed. Satisfied she was settled in a good position, on her side but still facing him, Sandor took her hip with both hands. 

It took one thrust for her eyes to open wide, and another for her to give into him. Sandor slid deeper and deeper with every movement, teasing her womb every time. It was hard to keep up such a pace, so Sandor was happy that work on his ranch had given him better stamina than most.

With her undivided attention, Sandor began to thrust even harder and faster in a bid to chase his own pleasure. One of his hands reached to her breast, one of hers to his ass cheek locking them in a fit of rough, rambunctious coupling. _ She can’t get enough of this cock _ , Sandor could see her eyes widening, could feel her squirming as he pounded her. Good girls seemed to be much more demanding than bad ones, as Sandor had never worked up such a sweat fucking before. 

When he felt his resolve weaken and his body teeter on the edge of orgasm, Mr. Hound pulled out of his beautiful partner. He merely looked down at his cock, hoping she could read his mind.

Sansa nodded emphatically. Sandor crawled over her, straddling Sansa’s shoulders with his cock right in her face. She fucking worshiped it.  _ Seven holy hells _ , he had to grab onto the wall just to steady himself from the force of her mouth. A hand fondling his balls, one sliding up and down his shaft and her lips wrapped around his head, she was determined to have him come as efficiently as possible.

_ Gods she’s fucking sexy.  _ Sansa was treating his cock like a god, sticking it as far down her throat as she possibly could. Sandor looked down at her, committing this insane moment to memory--then he just let his eyes roll back, giving into his partner.

When his orgasim hit, it was sudden.

“I’m, I’m …” that was the best he could do to warn her. His balls clenched and he began to release. It went everywhere. Come covered her hands, flew in her hair, some even landed on the fucking wall in front of him. There was nothing Sandor could do to stop the copious amount of seman he was expelling. 

_ Bloody hell, on the pillow too? _ When it was all said and done, Sandor had basically covered the upper fourth of her bed in come. He was breathing hard, raising his eyes to hers. Sansa was smiling, and somewhat in awe of his impressive glazing of her bedroom. Pleased she wasn’t going to tell him off for making a mess of the place, Sandor rolled off to the side and laid down next to her in an attempt to catch his breath. 

_ She’s gonna be the end of me,  _ he smiled enjoying the feeling that an injection of endorphins were giving him.

There was a long silence, though she did get some tissues from the bedside table and clean off the obvious remnants of his pleasure from her face and chest. Sandor grinned.  _ This is bliss--fuckin’ bliss.  _

“Tell me the truth,” Sansa finally said, “Do I have to pay extra for that, or can we just pretend it was included?”

Snorting, Sandor rolled on his side propping his head up with his hand. He ran a finger from her clavicle down her breast bone to her belly button. “I’m no whore, but I’m no charity either.”

“I see…” she answered thoughtfully.

“Maybe you’d say yes to coming out to my ranch, see the animals and stay for dinner?” It was a date, a backwards kind of date where he didn’t have to wait to see if they were a match in the sack. A twinge of nervousness hit Sandor as he realized he wouldn’t know what to do if she said no.

Sansa rolled on her side too. “I’d like that.” Sandor felt quite a bit of relief when she smiled. “I’d love to meet Stranger and,” she ran a finger down his chest as well, “get to know you better.”

Their eyes met, and Sandor knew this was something special.

The buzzing of a phone broke the moment, a couple of messages apparently. Sansa quickly went to find her phone on the bedside table where she had left it before. She read the messages and laid back, “It’s my sister. She wants to know how it's going.”

Sandor laughed, rolling on his back with his hands behind his head.

He could hear Sansa typing the response out, then she paused, “I don’t even know your real name, Mr. Hound.”

There was no need to even look at her face to know she was blushing, a bit of embarrassment at the idea that she fucked him for the better part of an hour screaming a damn stage name. Thinking back on it, there was something quite sexy about it.

“Eugene,” he replied, knowing his eyes would give away his fib if he looked at her. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her nose wrinkle up at the sound of it. “What? Don’t like the idea of screaming my name all of the sudden?”

“No, I….” she answered, trying to cover up her obvious embarrassment on the subject. Sandor let her winge a moment longer before sitting up. 

His lopsided grin made Sansa stop a moment, then realize he’d been teasing her. Her eyes narrowed in mock anger.

“It’s Sandor,” he smiled and quickly got a swat in return. “Oh come on, you should be happy you won’t have to scream out Eugene for the rest of your days.”

_ The rest of your days? Dog what are you doing?  _ Sandor felt tense at the thought of his own candor--but she didn’t seem to mind at all. Sandor leaned in and kissed her, the perfect distraction to steal her phone.

“Give that back,” Sansa yelped, laughing and climbing over his naked body in an attempt to retrieve it. 

Wrestling her to the bed playfully, Sandor held out the phone for a selfie. Sansa’s head was in the crook of his neck, a sheet tastefully covering her breasts. From the angle he held the phone it was going to be pretty obvious he was naked from the waist down. They smiled, and Sandor snapped the picture.

Then he typed, “ _ Thanks for the big cock request, otherwise I would have never met your sister. _ ” Sandor sent it before Sansa could grab the phone from his hand. 

She blushed, then laughed out loud. Sandor rolled on his back and stared up at the ceiling, more content than he had been in a long while. Even with all that had happened, his issues with money and Stranger’s health, Sandor felt for the first time in a long time that he would be able to get over it. 

A familiar buzz came from Sandor’s phone across the room, stirring him from his postcoital joy. Snorting in disapproval, he reluctantly got up from his warm spot on the bed to make sure it wasn’t the office checking up on him again. Grabbing his phone and turning the screen on, Sandor was surprised to see a couple of notifications from his Naked Cleaning app. Opening them quickly, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. 

_ Congratulations Mr. Hound, your cleaning services have been subscribed to for the next six weeks.  _ Surprised by his sudden fame, Sandor pressed on the notifications for more information. In the customer field a very familiar name came up, over and over again.

Turning his head to the sated red-head on the bed, Sandor could not hide his shock. Before he could utter his,  _ But why? _ Seeing as he would have spent time with her for free, she spoke.

“Consider it an advance, so that when we do have that date Stranger will be fit again.” Her smile was as big as her heart, making Sandor feel a swath of emotions that were foreign to him.

“I don’t know how to…” Sandor started, but found the words wouldn’t come.

“Just come back to bed,” she used her index finger to gesture him to her, “I dare say by the time my Naked Cleaner subscription runs out, this place is going to be spick and span.” 

“And you’re not going to be able to walk straight,” Sandor dug his face into the nape of her neck. He didn’t know where this was going, and was even still unsure how they had gotten to this point to begin with. Yet, Sandor Clegane could not imagine having met his perfect match any other way.

  
  



End file.
